A trip to my cabin delivered me into full-on winter. A recent series of storms has buried the meadow and creek under layers of white. I found myself in knee-deep snow when I stepped off the main road after parking my truck.
To reach my cabin, I waded
through the snow slowly. I stopped every
so often to admire the way winter’s white blanket smoothed-over summer’s rough and
tumble inclines. The quiet was also
notable. I have always appreciated the
way winter softens the sounds around you.
I could almost hear my own thoughts as I broke trail under a bluebird
sky.
The snow at my cabin was
strange. By strange I mean the last
layer of it (maybe six inches) has stuck to everything—including the roof of my
cabin and the face of my retaining walls.
I have never seen a build-up of more than a couple inches on my cabin
roof. Given the slope of the metal, snow
will not stick. But this snow clung to
every finger-hold possible.
Pretty, yes.
My Tracks
The Cabin
Strange Snow
Picnic Table
—Mitchell Hegman
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